I’m really bad at writing
my hands are lazy
weak with anticipation
of setting the page on fire
with my own hands

The wet slobber of a warm tongue b
As I peer off the side of my bed
is still another dream away from c
the empty smile of my hound dog mo
As I step foot upon the ground an

I once asked a man what he was wri
He looked up at me with the obviou
Women.
That’s all I ever write about. Th
one thing I could never quite unde

We sail away as the blood pumping
Direct us toward the heart of the
The soft currents carry our souls
Radiant as a woman’s red lips as s
We leave a world behind us in shad